Laxative

It's been going on a year since I've posted.

A year.

That's just bloody ridiculous.

The problem is that in my life, if I don't write all of my thoughts and feelings, they become emotionally stuffed down to the bottom of my toes, to a place that even my toenails wonder if there is hope for another life beyond. Emotionally stunting myself is no good choice when it comes to my wanting to change my life, get through college with good grades and even greater memories, and eventually write. Write. My dream. My longing. My great desire to leave something of myself to touch the lives of countless generations to come. To change the lives of people; for new perspectives to be gained; for new ideas wrestled and dealt with; for something of mine to endure. Therein is the end goal.

I find myself to be a very stubborn individual. I know what I need to do. What countless others have had to do. And yet, I try and find ways around the standard and get gain the same results. I do not like taking paths well broken in. Tonight I had the choice of 4 different types of beers. All of my other companions chose red. I, though loving the red kind, could not fall into the mold. I chose green. This silly example illustrates my deep need to step out and be different. However, this great need of mine is becoming a bit ridiculous as not only am I not a genius able to write a masterpiece at the drop of a hat, but that I feel my skill leave me day after day when I do not use it. It's bloody obvious what I need to do.

I need to write.

I need to keep daily thoughts going on something. Something that will help the creative juices flow and keep the emotions out of my toes and in places (like my heart and soul) where they duly belong. Will I write every day? Probably not. Although now that I'm thoroughly inspired we may be able to bank on one consecutive week. Ok, let me speak truthfully. We may count on 3 days in a row. If we're lucky.

But consistency is key, not perfection. To hone a skill, to learn a craft, requires years and years of practice. I do not wish to remain emotionally and literarily constipated. So here now is my laxative. Is my fiber. Is my writing. Is my blog.

Take Note

Our Biological Families remind us where we come from.  Covenant Families remind us where we're going. -- Constance Burke

Of Memory and the Great Story.

It's amazing how having 4 hours of sleep contributes to the making of a beautiful, though incredibly random day.  And here I am, verily able to fall into a comfortable sleep, yet fighting it all the way. Oh well, you gotta strike while the iron's hot!

Memory.  Today, suprisingly, I was completely on top of my game.  Remembered all I needed for work--not one mess up or set back.  Just beautiful fluity.  It was grand. 

At the gym I watched saw the very end of Caddyshack, and the gopher dance brought back some lovely memories of ye olde high school days, and a certain male ballet dancer who brilliantly imitated said gopher.  I also received a punch in the gut when I turned my eyes to find someone who looked remarkably like a dear friend from Britain, yet aged to 50.  It was a jolt like none other I can ever remember.  All of the sudden I felt as if I were watching the scene from outside myself, rewinding the year that has gone by, and thinking of the person and life I lead in my adopted home. Of the life I could be leading now if I were there. Oh my. Better not let that go too far. 

Then there's seeing people you knew once upon a day, but now in a completely different context, and realizing the story has moved on and away.  It's strange when you come to the point of being very ok to shut the chapter of a book and look away... look away and not back with regret.  I never really understood it as a child--how friends can lose touch.  But I suppose that comes with maturity.  I never understood how someone could let something so precious die.  But there is a time for life and death, and when the end comes, any attempt to resusitate it merely prolongs the agony of the break.  

Break ups are not all bad.  One must cherish the good memories and see them for what they are: memories. Whether those memories are so potent they kick you in the stomache, or they are regarded as such to cause yourself to become the center of attention laughing hysterically at something a tiny bit funny, it's worth it.  But when you try to relive the memories, resusitate the life that has passed away, the old people that we once were, and the old values that we once held, the pieces never will fit. Alas.  Though we are sub-creators and can control the lives of people in Faerie land, we have not the same ability in our own.  God is God and I am not.  Thankfully. 

And so, all of these memories should be treasured and remembered.  But when people lose the will to keep those memories alive and ever maturing with each and every adventure, then its time to take the shovel and begin digging the hole.  Afterall, there is a sense of completeness at the end of a funeral. 

I'm a fighter.  But, that was yesterday.  If those of yester year attend and remain close, then happy day!  If not... it's just another closing of a chapter in the grand story of my life.  I will not make the mistakes of those who came before me.  I will not waste the beautiful opportunities that lay before me.  And I will not be passive.  I taste the freshness and opportunity that lies at my very feet and rejoice.  It is a new day, and God is good. 

On Betrayal

I think betrayal is the worst thing a person can ever feel or experience.  Especially when the person who betrayed them was their best friend, their sister, their closest ally, their bosom friend (Anne Shirley, woop!). Besides the betrayal of a spouse, the betrayal of "your person" is the deepest a cut can go.  And when that friendship has history, say 8 years, the wound is all the more deep and all the more unwilling/unable to heal.  Especially when you include the factors:

1. That person became relatively quiet when you needed them the most.  I mean, it's expected for communication to be difficult in very different time zones and lifestyles... and cultures, but still.  Friends are friends no matter the time zone.

2. That person treats you with condescension and spite out of the blue. This especially hurts when you have never been so cruelly spoken to by someone who has not spent 40 years rotting their mind out with drugs.

3. That person gets engaged and invites everyone from your old circle of friends to the wedding to be bridesmaids, and yet, you are not even informed.  

4.  Everyone else, even those who know the story, still love them.  

Now, I have a heightened sense of justice... perhaps that's due to all the stuff I've been through judicially where a towel has been thrown over justice. Or it may be due to some special gift from God.  I also have a great sense of loyalty.  Perhaps it's because I don't exactly have a family... or because one should always remain true to their adopted family.  Whatever the case, I am still hurt, and the wound keeps weeping.

There's a great temptation to take everything I was ever given, or anything that evokes strong memories (and what doesn't, when you've known this person all your teen years?) and rip it to shreds.  Then burn the shred.  Then send the shreds to them in the mail.  Ok, maybe not. (First of all, I'm simply not that stalkerish and conniving; Secondly, I don't want to burn anything down or kill any wildlife; Thirdly, I'd rather not get dirty).

There's also a rather large temptation to simply delete the past and cut myself off from all influences of it, from all the people from it.  Then I wouldn't have to be confronted with this bastard issue everytime we get together.  To start new. Start fresh. But no good friend could be that pigheaded and do something so mean.  It would be perpetuating the hurt.  And I could never sleep if I thought I had caused someone pain; least of all a mere spliter of the amount I've felt.  

Right now the only option is to let go.  This may sound petty and over-dramatic to the average reader, but try growing up solo in a world full of living, breathing novels. Having the fact that you're screwed up and aren't from a cookie cutter family thrown in your face every moment. And then having the one person who you know will be there for you no matter what, suddenly turn into a rabid bitch.  And so, as good friend has told me time and again.  Breathe. Just Breathe. 

So, I'm going to do that.  Breathing and all.  And the good friends, the right friends, the covenant friends, will stick no matter what. Or so wisdom tells me.

The Click

After 6 years of classical education, a year abroad, and a year in College, I do believe I'm only just now starting to "get it" afterall. I mean, what everything I've studied for so long actually mean... it's relevance and point.  I thought I had before, but it's as if I'm seeing with new eyes.  The light has been turned on, and I'm there.  Not there there. But on the road to getting there.  Now it's just a matter of staying on that road and not squelching that light. 

Let's Waste Millions of Euros and Dump MORE Crap into the Ocean!

Honestly.  How is this not pollution?  What about the ecology of the ocean where this stuff has been dumped?  

All just a massive waste of time.  And money.  And energy.  Stupid is as stupid does.

http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,,4126536,00.html

Prop 8 -- The Musical

I mean, they're not spreading hate or ignorance or anything...